Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The First Death ❯ Chapter 8: The True Death, Part 4 ( Chapter 8 )

The True Death, Part 4

Summary: Events draw to a head as Saki's experiment follows an unforeseen path, and a midnight visit to Kokakurou weaves together a tangled web.

Spoilers through Kyoto Arc

A particular legend in turn-of-the-century Japan goes something like this:

A celestial being and a demonic one made an agreement. No one knows what the exact details of the agreement were. Some say it was really a bet, others say it was an experiment. The main stipulation that affects humans is as follows:

Each of them will have a child borne by a human woman. The children will be allowed to follow their own paths, with their environments and choices dictating what they will become. There will be no interference.

There are no time limitations or deadlines. There is just the agreement.

Not too long afterwards, there are two children born, in different parts of Japan. One is born in a village, a little boy who, by all appearances, is completely normal but for his violet eyes. The child is given away, after exposure does no good.

In a different village, a little girl is born. The child has pure white hair and almost completely colorless eyes. In fact, without pigmentation, she is pale to translucency. At a young age, she is sold to a traveling merchant as an oddity. No one knows what happened to her.

Parallel beginnings in the same world. Neither continues to age once they reach maturity. One dies by his own hand, a suicide; the other is kept as a curiosity, passed from hand to hand. Madness sets in for both, though for one it's mercifully short.

The boy and girl are dead. Yet the agreement is ongoing, even without the original players. As long as their lives interfere with human ones, whether through their own or their descendants, it will always continue.

They say that the demonic being wanted a boy, because of its pride. They also say that the celestial being wanted a girl, because of its humility. Yet both were designed with a fatal flaw that only increases with exposure to human blood. At a particular balance, the more human blood, the stronger the flaws become. However, too much human blood, and it thins out and weakens the original.

Those of demonic descent are inexorably drawn to goodness, feeling the weight of their bloodlines. Celestial descendants, on the other hand, are inexorably drawn to darkness...

*******

|Sakaki|

Almost two weeks ago today, Sakaki Seiichirou, then-current secretary and assistant to a particular Dr. Muraki Kazutaka, decided to go to bed early. He vaguely remembers waking up in the middle of the night because of a noise, but the next thing he definitively remembers is waking up to find himself lying on a thin futon, handcuffed to a pipe outlet in a far-too-cold laboratory.

Much has changed since then. Muraki's brother Shidou-san has taught him a lot.

Sakaki looks at his hand and wiggles the fingers on his right hand as if he can't move it. For the last several hours, he's been bound to this hospital bed, his wrists pinioned by fabric straps that they use for patients who, in their delirium, cannot help but thrash about, unintentionally hurting themselves.

He woke up groggily from a drug-induced stupor - something in the food, no doubt - as Saki was binding him early this morning. But the reasoning begins to seem clearer and clearer as now, the brother chats amicably, prepping Sakaki's bared inner elbow with a tincture of surgically sterile iodine, carefully palpating the sensitive flesh there for the vein underneath.

Of course, Sakaki's no fool. After Saki had left, he had burrowed under the sheets and spent the day hiding under the covers as if in grief. But in actuality, he had been working meticulously at picking at the fabric with his teeth loosening the ties until really they were mere formality, nothing that could really restrain him with any conviction.

Ever since Saki returned from work and asked him to sit up, Sakaki's been waiting for an opening. He's very patient.

Here's where it comes.

Saki has one hand bracing Sakaki's arm, the other positioning the syringe for the correct point of insertion. As the needle descends, Sakaki moves. It's the moment that Sakaki's been waiting for, the instant when Saki takes his eyes off of him.

Without warning, Sakaki's left hand strikes out, in one quick motion pulling the plunger of the syringe back while his right hand goes to twist the needle out of Saki's hand. In an instant that seems to last forever, Saki looks up, surprised, as an arc of colorless liquid flies into the air in a thin stream, spilling from the open syringe. His eyes grow wide as the liquid splashes at him, and a second later, it's over, as Sakaki manages to twist in the bed and, knock Saki over to the ground with a swing of his legs.

Sakaki's heart pounds, the rush of adrenaline seeming to cancel out any lingering side effects from the morning's dose of drugs. He quickly hops off the bed from the other side, skidding along the slick tile floor in his sock-clad feet, scrambling for the stray broom that he saw across the room earlier in the morning. He spins around after grabbing it, shakily ready to defend himself, but it seems that Saki is not getting up.

Sakaki finds this to be very odd, as the blow was nothing serious - not nearly enough to knock a grown man out - so, carefully he inches forward and prods at Saki with the long broomstick from a distance, trying to gauge if he had managed a lucky hit and knocked Saki out.

No reaction. Sakaki frowns, and carefully shoves at Saki with the long wooden handle of the broomstick, trying to turn him so he can see Saki's face. Sakaki wonders what is wrong with Saki, as he can still hear Saki's ragged breaths. Saki's head lolls over, and Sakaki nearly drops the broomstick.

Eyes.

They're like nothing Sakaki's ever seen before. As Muraki's assistant, he's seen all sorts of patients with ailments, whether through accident, disfiguration, or disease, pass through Muraki's practice. Even Muraki with his asymmetrical prosthetic had never once looked anything like this.

This…it's inhuman.

Saki's eyes, in the cool florescent light, have taken on a hue that makes it seem as if the pupil's burst, ebony flooding into the iris, engulfing the cornea. And even as Sakaki watches, something is changing. Something bad.

Sakaki's forgotten to breathe as Saki's eyes grow almost kaleidoscopic, colors drifting in and out of the blackened orb like the gleam of mother-of-pearl; silvery, violet, blue…Saki's head half-turns away from Sakaki, falling limp against the floor, and as the light catches against the curve of Saki's eyeball, it seems to reflect, like the eyes of a feral beast in the dark.

With a clatter, the broom hits the floor, and Sakaki makes a run for it, not bothering to try to find his shoes or wallet or keys, trying only to get away, to get back from those eyes that seem to bore into him, sightless and horrible, all human pretense stripped away into something that he cannot with any decency understand in the slightest.

Sakaki's running, past the chill laboratory halls that have been his prison for the last few weeks. Inside his head, Sakaki is planning as he stumbles out into the night, the first hint of fresh air in weeks hitting his face. He trembles in the cool autumn night as he realizes he's free. It's raining, and his feet are getting soaked through his thin black dress socks. In the distance, the rumble of traffic, and Sakaki knows from the sound that he's not far from one of the major highways that intersect Tokyo.

Something must have happened to Muraki, so he can't go look for him. Sakaki's reasoned this out, because he knows that Muraki would have come for him, and not left him to rot in Saki's hands. Sakaki can't go home, either. Saki's had his keys - all of them - for weeks. Sakaki runs various scenarios through his head until he realizes what he has to do.

First, he needs to find a bank machine. He needs to access certain accounts, to see if he can still pull money from them, because he knows that certain procedures will have automatically started if Muraki is truly dead.

Then, he's going to Kyoto. That's what he's supposed to do.

Sakaki stares at his feet. He'll need shoes. Sakaki steels himself with a deep breath, and starts walking blithely along as if there is nothing in the world wrong with a man who is out on a cold, rainy autumn night without a coat or umbrella, wearing just a long-sleeved white shirt, gray trousers, and socks. He combs his fingers through his short-cropped hair, feeling the icy water slick through it, and heads for the sound of traffic, trying to figure out exactly where in Tokyo he is.

As he walks, Sakaki shivers a little. But it's not because it's cold. It's because he's remembering those eyes.

*******

|Muraki|

The proof. Ah, what an amusing concept. Between the researching efforts of two fowl and one featherbrain, there's more than enough, apparently.

It amuses me to know that they're afraid of me, which is why, once the data from Saki's chip that had been hidden in my earrings had been extracted, it was left for my personal perusal while they beat a hasty tea break retreat. And certainly, it was a good idea, because right now, there are a few things I'd like to accomplish, most of them beginning with my brother and ending along the fine-honed edge of a sharp knife.

Satomi. Had I known about your involvement in the death of my parents, your suffering would have been so very much prolonged. The memory of your face distorted in terror and pain at my hands is my only consolation. That I had killed you myself gives me some fulfillment, yet couldn't you have told me? All these years, you hid this from me, your prize pupil; the little boy in white that grew up to follow in your footsteps more than I ever did with my own father…

Saki's copy of your diary shows that you were the one who supplied Saki with the drugs that killed my parents. All these years, I had naively believed it was something simple like the bitter almond of cyanide, but it turns out that it was in fact powerful, yet subtle neurotoxins - your own blend perhaps? No wonder that the coroner never caught it.

You wanted my father dead, because you were more than half in love with my mother. You thought Saki would kill only him, because father dragged the poor bastard from his happy little orphanage (and in truth, he is a bastard in every possible definition of the word) into the twisted little world that was our Muraki family.

You never knew what went on in that household, did you? I bet you didn't know how much Saki hated my mother and how in he, his own skewed perception, wanted to protect me from what he thought was her madness. Oh, how ironic the twists and turns of fate that the vessel for your plot brought about your beloved's demise as well. Or, as my brother's records, gleaned from your own when he inherited your estate, seem to indicate, her incomplete demise.

If only you were alive so that I could ask you this question - how did you look, how did it feel, what did you think, when her dismembered body (and exactly how did you manage to steal it from the morticians?) began to move of its own volition, begin to try to cry to you for help?

Did her torn vocal cords try to reattach themselves as you severed her head for your project? Did she cry and beg you for help when you panicked and dumped the squirming, thrashing limbs and shining white hair into the school's underground furnace? How did you feel when you were destroying the evidence as you smashed the bones to pieces with a heavy metal rod to force them to keep from trying to piece themselves together as you watched the flesh burn?

Oh, and I can just imagine your guilt afterwards, not merely because of the fact that you sentenced my mother to two deaths, one inadvertent, one intentional, but because "you didn't think to take a sample and thus lost the opportunity to study further this mysterious regenerative capability."

I can just imagine.

I can just…

*******

|Hisoka|

Tadaima.

Kind of. We're now back in Meifu at the general office. It's late, far past nine, but there's still going to be a meeting. Divisions two, four, and five, all in one room at the same time. Bleh. I just want to go to bed. Hopefully everyone else will be too tired to talk for long, because if this meeting lasts more than an hour, I am definitely going to hug Terazuma and let him and Tsuzuki burn down the building just so I don't have to come in tomorrow.

I'm tired. It's been a long, long day. After our secret meeting with Saki, we received a messenger ofuda from Wakaba, asking us to do a quick investigation to look for a guy named Sakaki Seiichirou at a particular set of locations, including Muraki's old workplace. Apparently they had been trying to contact him and had received no answer.

Well, I think now I know just about everything I can stomach about that poor Muraki-sensei who died so unexpectedly, and gosh, what kind of a monster could have murdered him? He was like a saint or an angel, maybe a little cold sometimes, but always so kind to us and remember last New Year's when he paid for the entire staff to go to Kyoto for the weekend to see a concert by that famous rock star? We'll all really miss him.

Ugh.

The enthusiasm of his staff almost made me feel guilty about killing him, until I remembered that those mousy ladies probably knew nothing about Muraki's real self. Dr. Muraki the surgeon was probably a really nice guy. Muraki, the man that I know, is something more and something less, both at the same time. They probably never would have guessed that he could have been involved in serial killing sprees of pretty long-haired women and little boys raped under the red moonlight.

Bad thoughts. I need to stop thinking about that. Okay, deep breaths, Kurosaki. Deep breaths.

Right, Tokyo. No one knew where "that nice young Sakaki-san" is. The last anyone had heard, he was going on vacation, but that was just what his answering machine said. According to the interviews, it was really odd for him to leave all this work half-done before he left town. Of course, nasty rumors had it that it was possible that young Sakaki-san had committed the murder, but how could that be? Apparently the young man had been devoted to Sensei since childhood, through his father's connection with the Muraki family, and his loyalty could not be faulted. No, of course no one's involved the police - Sakaki-san is probably just in mourning for his poor Sensei.

Hours and hours of this. The nurses could really talk. I sort of wonder how they manage to get any work done. I guess Muraki was probably very strict or something when he was actually here.

Now, I'm sitting with everyone in the break room where we're having our meeting. There are more people than usual, plus Tatsumi bought us dinner with money from the general account (bowls of noodles delivered from the ramen shop down the street), so it's what they call a 'working dinner meeting.'

In any case, I'm not sure how it turned out this way, but across the table from us are Wakaba and Terazuma (Terazuma's directly across from me), to my right is Tsuzuki, and to his right is Muraki. Of course, at the head of the table is Tatsumi who is right next to Muraki, so I guess it doesn't matter that much if Muraki is near Tsuzuki, because if Muraki tries anything, Tatsumi could slap him into the ground faster then you can blink…but it's still *really weird*. I get the vague undertone of resentment off of Muraki, so I can only imagine Terazuma whacking him around and threatening him into eating a decent meal.

Tsuzuki is looking a bit wistfully at Muraki, who's half-heartedly eating his dinner.

Oh, I don't mean to say that Tsuzuki wants something from Muraki other than his tempura shrimp. I can tell. You know, the empathy thing.

Tempura shrimp is not a code for anything. It's just tempura shrimp.

So weird thoughts aside, it seems like Muraki doesn't seem to care who's looking at him. In fact, he looks like hell. Curiosity takes me to a bad place, so I decide to see if I can figure out why he's like that. Hesitantly, I extend my senses further, just a bit.

Waaah. I almost drop my chopsticks, because his head's full of…er…images of long white hair. And dismemberingness. Which is not a real word.

Oh, and now I guess I better pay attention. Tatsumi's about to start. He gives a summary of where we are in this case, and what needs to be done from here on out. Apparently, since no one can find Saki, we're going to have to do it the old fashioned way, by tracking down boring administrative details like if he bought a house or if he's got a car registered to him. The Gushoushin are already tracking the paperwork on the man, so it should only be a matter of time before we see some sort of result. However, this means that tomorrow we're out in Tokyo again to help resolve minor cases while divisions four and five look for Saki, since Kyushu is as usual, (or at least, as usual since Tsuzuki stabbed Muraki in Kyoto) nice and quiet.

"…so that's where we stand. Any questions?"

"Sure," Terazuma says. "What do we do when we find the guy?"

"We will deal with him based on the situation," Tatsumi replies. "Ideally, we will do an initial interview, and, based on that, field an investigation into his past. Afterwards, I'll submit a letter of request to Enma's office regarding termination or continuation. Depending on the information we give, along with any other circumstantial evidence that we find, Enma's office will make a decision, and we will follow it through according to his judgment." Tatsumi's sitting with his hands folded neatly in front of him, a cool and crisp contrast to his partner, who hasn't said a thing in the last half hour, other than sit there looking placidly blank while his head spins with all sorts of ugly, nasty things, like human bones crunching in a fire.

"Why do you say situational, Tatsumi-san?" Wakaba blinks. "Shouldn't it just be a clear case of interview, investigation, and judgment?"

"Ideally, yes, but if even Tsuzuki-san cannot find him through magical means, it's quite possible that this Shidou Saki is a strong magician in his own right." Oblique Muraki reference. Muraki doesn't flinch.

"What do we do if that's the case?" I ask, curious.

"Again, it depends on the situation," Tatsumi repeats. "We'll know when we get there."

Tsuzuki's starting to reek curiosity. "Ne, Tatsumi. What happens if we can't find him?"

"I'm sure that we can find him, Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi says confidently. "I have faith in you, and the rest of the Shinigami on this case. You all are among the best of Summons Division. We will find Shidou Saki." At that, Tsuzuki's twitching with guilt inside, but of course, he's great at not showing it. I just sort of try to look humble.

Meeting concluded, and with fifteen minutes to spare before the hour. EnmaCho Summons Division is safe for another day from the ravages of Terazuma and Tsuzuki's shikigami. Terazuma stops to talk to Tatsumi, Tsuzuki helps Wakaba clean up, and I notice Muraki slipping out, opening the door with a mechanical precision that makes me kind of worried.

So of course, being the genius that I am, I follow him, curious as to where he's going.

At this point, let me say a few things about Muraki's state of mind. The first time I encountered him seriously; it was like dipping my head into a big jar of live bees. Think of the image. Now take that, and make it really dark, and that's pretty much what it felt like. Messy, blurry, and I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on, other than that it was dark, twisty, it stung, and damned if I was going to try to stay in there for long.

After he showed up here, the few times I ran into him, it was like a normal person's head. The usual sensation of emotions and thoughts. Of course, that little interlude's over now, and…well, I think I mentioned the dismemberment?

Right now, he feels like I'm dipping my brain in a viscous black mess that makes up the inside of his head. The bees are gone, but it's still sticky with weird dark feelings and goo…so imagine a big jar of tarry mud with little branches and sticks in there to poke you in the face, and dunk your head into that.

Yeah. Kind of like that.

Muraki makes his way outside. It's nearly a full moon, and with stray sakura petals lilting along the breeze giving the night sky a tinge of pink, it's an eerie juxtaposition, as if I'm thirteen again, and I'm about to run into the worst thing that happened in my life. Once outside, he sort of stumbles over to the lawn and sits down on the grass carelessly, staring up at the moon as if it were the most interesting thing in the universe.

The worst person. I take a deep breath. I'm not thirteen anymore. I have spells of my own to protect me. And within hearing distance are at least three men and a girl who could conceivably wipe Meifu with bits and chunks of Muraki, not to mention the fact that there's a peace division and Enma's own influence.

So I take another deep breath, and walk over to Muraki. I sit down next to him, far enough so that he can't reach me without getting up, but close enough to hear him.

He doesn't do anything. He just sort of sits and stares at the moon. His feelings seem to have calmed down a little, but he's still seething with weird twisty black thoughts.

"Hey," I say. Amazingly, my voice doesn't crack from all the nervousness that I'm feeling.

"Good evening." Muraki stares blindly at the moon, as if somehow that can tell him something.

"Is everything all right?" I ask hesitantly, wondering what his response will be. I feel tense, that this is a bad idea, and that I should run or something before he takes it into his head to do something bad to me.

"No." Muraki's voice makes it sound like he feels nothing, even as his emotions are roiling with upset.

"Did something happen?" My questions get bolder, since he doesn't seem to do anything other than watch the moon move ever so slowly across the sky.

"Yes." The answer comes a lot stiffer than I would have imagined. Something pretty bad must have happened on top of the whole Saki thing, because he is really screwed up inside.

"What?"

"Your concern is appreciated, but it's nothing that you should be worried about." Muraki's so polite that he sounds like he's running on autopilot.

"Okay. But will you answer me a question?" I venture. There's something that's been bothering me for a long time, and maybe it's just odd enough a request that he'll stop being full of sticks and mud, and start thinking clearly enough that we can get some work done around here.

In any case, I hate mud.

"Perhaps. What do you want to know?" Muraki asks dully.

"Why did you let me kill you?"

Muraki turns to me for the first time since our conversation began, and looks at me, almost confused. "Let you, kill me?"

"Yeah. It was a little too convenient. How you told me where you would be, and how our spells got tangled. You know I carry a gun. I shot out your circle in Nagasaki. You never even really told me why you asked me to meet you there."

Muraki blinks, the inky darkness retreating as his brain starts wandering through the various events that had led him to this moment.

"I…I suppose that it was what I wanted," he says, softly, as if he's not really talking to me, but to someone else. "It seemed like a good idea…"

"Why?" It's such a strange sensation, as though we're no longer Hisoka and Muraki with all that our shared past entails, but just two strangers discussing a personal secret as only strangers manage to do.

"Because there was nothing else to live for. I couldn't kill him and make the hurt go away. And I couldn't save her because she would never be all right again. So I did what I thought I should have done so very long ago…less people would have had to die that way…" Muraki's voice is very quiet, as if he's the boy and I'm the adult.

"What about me? Why did you…do that? With the curse, under the tree…" I don't know why I'm asking him this. I feel like I'm going to get into a world of trouble here, but I have to know. Especially now that he's actually opened up a little.

Muraki looks at me, as if remembering who I am, but then, the recognition seems to slip from his eyes, as he remembers something that sends stabbing cold chills through him as the words slip out of his mouth unheeded.

"Because I needed to. You were too much like me, and I couldn't stand it. You looked just like me when I was that age. I wanted to kill off that weak, that Kazutaka…end it so that you wouldn't grow up to become…but I couldn't…"

And that's the end of that, because as he talks, Muraki turns his head and sees Terazuma off in the distance, standing guard. I didn't notice him, so he must have been very quiet (both his feelings and his feet). I have no idea how long he was watching.

"Yo." Terazuma waves. Seeing that Muraki's noticed him and stopped talking, Terazuma walks up to us. I'd like to think that he was far enough away to have not heard us, but Terazuma's hearing is pretty impressive, so I don't know how much he's overheard. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," I say. "Just asking Muraki how his first real big case is like."

"Mmm, okay," Terazuma says, and I can feel his skepticism. "In any case, your partner's waiting for you, Kurosaki. Better go home and get some sleep, all right? Big day tomorrow."

"Sounds good," I say. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it is," Muraki says to me pleasantly, as he gets up and dusts himself off. "Good night." All traces of our conversation are lost in the flurry of sakura petals skittering along the wind.

***

"Ne, Hisoka." Tsuzuki's walking me back to my apartment. The moon's light is so bright tonight that they haven't bothered turning on the streetlights, so everything is bathed in a pale blue-white glow, the shadows of the trees deep and menacing. But I'm not afraid. We take our time walking back to my place, trying to make our time together last longer.

"Yeah?" I give Tsuzuki's hand a squeeze, my fingers twined with his, and I can feel his smile.

"I talked to Tatsumi after you went outside," Tsuzuki lets my hand go, and puts his arm around me, pulling me closer as we walk. Tingly bits of warmth dance along my nerves as I feel the weight of his arm around my shoulders.

"What did he have to say?"

"He didn't say anything very specific," Tsuzuki says, "But I get the feeling that he's going along with this for Muraki's sake."

"Why would he do that?" I ask.

"To get him out of Meifu," Tsuzuki replies. "I think Tatsumi's convinced that if Muraki's allowed to kill Saki, he'll wrap up what's keeping him tied to Chijou, and move on. Or, failing that, he'll get punished and sent somewhere else. Either way, that means no more Muraki."

"That's reasonable," I say. "I'd want that too if I were Tatsumi."

"But then, that means Saki would be dead," Tsuzuki says. "And if I can prevent another person from dying because of that man…no matter what, I want to try."

I nod. "I believe you, Tsuzuki."

We've passed the park, and are almost to my apartment. It's kind of disappointing to know that afterwards, Tsuzuki's just going to go home, but I guess that's the way things are. Fleeting.

And now we're home. Well, my home. I guess Tsuzuki's going to his apartment after this. We pause in the moonlit twilight, standing awkwardly at my doorstep.

"Muraki told me something strange," I say, finally, breaking the silence. Tsuzuki flinches.

"When did you talk to him?" Prickles of worry.

"When I ran into him on the lawn. Right after the meeting."

"What?"

"He was feeling…weird. I can't explain it that well. Bees and mud." I gesture helplessly. "So I followed him, and we talked. Don't worry so loud at me. Terazuma followed us out. He was there the entire time." Definitely an embellishment, but I'm still alive, so I guess that's okay.

Tsuzuki frowns. He doesn't like it, but it's past and I'm in one piece, so he's a bit more relieved, but still concerned. "What did Muraki have to say?"

"That I look like him when he was still a kid. He thought that he and I were alike." There, I said it.

"I don't believe that. Not for a moment." Tsuzuki says, his emotions gaining an edge of anger.

"I don't know why he said that," I say, fumbling with the keys a bit in the dark, trying to open the door. "I guess he's just crazy. Hey, Tsuzuki, do you want to come in?" I finally manage to get the door open, and turn on the light. Warm light floods out the doorway, and we both blink, our eyes adjusting.

With that little question, the anger's gone as quickly as it came. Tsuzuki pauses. It's long enough to make me want to strangle him. Just make a decision already!

"Sure," Tsuzuki says, finally. He gives me a smile that says a lot while not saying anything at all. Of course, the thoughts behind it are a lot more colorful, so I can feel the heat rise up in my cheeks.

I shut the door behind us.

*******

|Sakaki|

Many years ago, it was settled between Muraki and Oriya in private that if anything was to happen to Muraki, Sakaki was to go to Kyoto. As Muraki's demise is ascertained (through the accessing of accounts that now show liquidation via death of the account holder), Sakaki will follow his deceased employer's dictates.

In the main Tokyo Train Station, there's a small locker that he rents by the month for his employer. Sakaki keeps some money in it, an extra rail pass with enough credit to get a person halfway across Japan, as well as some spare clothes and other miscellaneous items, in case Muraki ever needs anything while he's traveling.

Drowning in the large, light gray wool coat and the white shoes a few sizes too large, with his icy feet aching with cold and his short black hair slicked wet against his skull, Sakaki manages to catch the train that will arrive in Kyoto just an hour shy of midnight.

While the Tokaido Shinkansen zips along at over 180 miles per hour, he dozes off and has a whisper of a dream, feeling safe for the first time in weeks.

***

Sakaki remembers this winter the most. A lot of things happened that year. His father died, and his mother became ill.

It was an accident. A plane crash. Sensei (at the time, barely a year out of medical school) had asked the elder Sakaki to accompany the Mibus to Hokkaido. There, they would go on their separate ways. The Mibus were on vacation. Father was working, as he always was.

But now, with his father's death, Sakaki's catapulted into adulthood. Like the dove-gray coat that's around his now sleeping shoulders, the gap that his father's death left was too large for him to fit.

In Sakaki's dream, his mother won't stop crying. She's always been a strong woman, and he's never felt like he needed to protect her, so he doesn't know what to do. He's too young to know what to do, so he shies away, because he's afraid of her emotions, the tears that stream down her face, and it only hurts her more.

The service is in Kyoto. Sakaki stays with his mother in a hotel, and Sensei stays with Oriya-san. Sakaki spends most of his time watching his mother drink herself into an alcoholic stupor. He says nothing, staying quiet. He just cleans up after she passes out.

During the ceremony, Sakaki goes through the motions as the new head of his household, his clumsy adolescent actions trying to parallel Oriya's calm grace. They ignore each other studiously.

Afterwards Sakaki takes his mother home, and manages everything in the household - cleaning, cooking, paying bills - learning everything from scratch, and hiding from everyone the fact that his mother has gone just a little insane. It takes about a year, but the little madness becomes so immense that eventually, Sensei steps in and has her sent to a sanatorium.

Sakaki still doesn't cry as the family home is sold off, and he goes to live with Sensei for a few weeks until his new school starts, a highly ranked boarding school in Tokyo where everything will be provided. But then, one day, as Sensei is cooking breakfast for him, something about the scent of the miso soup reminds him of a certain morning when his mother and father are cooking breakfast together, and they're smiling, and they kiss, and everything is just normal, and he loses it.

In Sakaki's dream, he's fourteen again, and Sensei's arms are around him. Somewhere in the background, the kitchen smells like miso and fresh-cooked rice, and Sensei's shirt is smooth against his cheek. And Sensei's voice says that it's all right to cry…It's all right…

Sakaki wakes up with a jerk as the train pulls into Kyoto station. Blinking, he rubs at his eyes and gets up. It's a bit more than an hour to midnight, and he needs to find his way to Kokakurou.

***

Thankfully, there is enough money left over to take a taxi, at least part way. Sakaki doesn't think he can manage in the shoes, not without further damage to his feet than what has already been done. Already, his feet are sore and blistered from walking without shoes earlier.

It's a Monday night, and Kokakurou is dark - the one day of the week that the restaurant is closed. Sakaki knocks anyway; hoping that one of the servants is still in. No answer - everyone is either sleeping or out of the complex. He sighs, disappointed, and limps his way around the complex, searching for the hidden gate that leads into Oriya's private garden, an enclosed courtyard that Oriya's rooms overlook.

There's a particular trick to the latch that Muraki taught him. It usually takes him at least a few tries worry it open, but today he somehow manages to get it right the first time. The door swings open; he steps in, and closes it behind him.

As he walks through the garden along the path toward the building, he can hear the tiny click of a sword being unsheathed, somewhere in the darkness. Sakaki freezes immediately.

"Oriya-san, it's me; Sakaki," he says, his voice small and shaky. He can't tell where Oriya is, the darkness of the trees casting everything in deep shadow.

"I'm here." Oriya's voice is a substantial thread to cling to in the night. The padding of footsteps, and a light comes on. The paper-paneled door slides open, and a soft, flickering light spills out into the darkness, providing a path of illumination that Sakaki follows gratefully.

Sakaki toes off his shoes at the entrance and enters the room, sitting on his heels in the traditional style, bowing to its owner in greeting. A futon has been laid out, and it's rumpled, the bedding tossed off as if in haste. The room smells faintly of cedar and dried herbs, with an underlying sweet hint of pipe smoke. He notes that Oriya's katana is at his side - he had never supposed Oriya would sleep with the weapon, but it seems to make sense.

Oriya studies Sakaki intently, noting the still-damp hair and oversized coat that could belong to no one other than Muraki, for its size and color. "I had heard you were out of the country?"

"Ah, about that…" Sakaki trails off, staring at the floor, shoulders hunched beneath the heavy wool coat, looking exhausted. "I've been with Shidou-san. Not by choice." Sakaki rubs his wrist absently, remembering the bonds. "I managed to free myself earlier this evening, and came directly here."

"And what does Shidou-san have to say?" A quaver of emotion twinges along Oriya's voice as his eyes narrow, and his fingers play along the corded hilt of his sword. He, like everyone else, had believed that Sakaki was out of the country.

"He told me that he had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. He said found Sensei's data by taking it from you. And he tried testing his results on me," Sakaki says. For a moment, he remembers those inhuman eyes, and he shakes his head as if trying to erase the memory.

"Results?" Oriya's voice is cold.

"It's a formula for unlimited cell immortality."

"Alchemist's gold," Oriya says, as the pieces in his head start fitting together. Muraki's earrings. The dinners. Saki's kindness. The strange fatigue that in retrospect could only have been linked to Saki. "What happened? Did he succeed?"

Sakaki shakes his head. "Something in the liquid changed him…I turned it against him, and it splashed his eyes. The last I saw…" Sakaki shudders, as if a winter's wind has passed through. "His eyes…they weren't right. Like silver-white and black, but both at the same time."

"Do you know what was in it?" Oriya asks. In his mind, he thinks about what was in the data. Muraki had shown bits of it to him once. Much of it was beyond his scope of understanding, but he had a fairly good idea that it had something to do with a man who was now a Shinigami, and the test results that showed exactly where he differed from normal people.

"No. Not really. He mentioned that it was a puzzle pieced together from two halves. But he kept talking about how Sensei wasn't…wasn't human," Sakaki says, his eyes to the ground. "I don't…it doesn't seem possible!" His fingers clench angrily at the trailing edge of the pale gray coat.

Oriya frowns. "I'm sure Shidou-san is mistaken," he says finally, ignoring that familiar voice in his memories, that distant expression, that old line about the dictates of internal programming.

"But is he right? About Sensei being dead?" Sakaki asks, tentatively.

"Yes. The funeral was last week," Oriya says softly, his voice weighted with unspoken sentiment. He closes his eyes, momentarily. Somewhere in his memory, Muraki smiles at him, his matched quicksilver eyes bright with humor, heartbreakingly young.

"Oh." Sakaki sounds surprised and disappointed, both at once, as if he still can't quite believe it. It seems amazingly understated. "I missed it, then."

"Yes."

"Was it beautiful? The funeral." Sakaki twists the hem of the gray coat between his fingers. It still smells a little bit like Muraki, the coat. He thinks about the last time he saw his employer wear this - was it last winter? No, three winters ago, and he was at a conference with Sensei, recording panel talks on a small hand-held tape recorder.

"It was as he would have wanted. But otherwise unremarkable, as funerals go," Oriya says, effectively ending the line of conversation. Oriya stands up, the indigo patterned fabric of his yukata settling around him like woven bamboo shifting with the breath of the wind in a forest. "Sakaki."

"Yes?" Sakaki sits up straight, his attention focused, responding to the tone of command in Oriya's voice.

"I will get you something to wear. Change out of those wet clothes, and go to bed. We will speak more about this in the morning."

"Yes, Oriya-san," Sakaki bows his head in acquiescence. He catches a glance of his wristwatch. It's almost midnight. The second hand ticks away silently, counting off a pause and a breath before the pumpkin hour. Sakaki looks up to see a flutter of black at the edge of the doorway, just as Oriya makes his way across the room.

A moment later, things become very complicated, and the prospect of rest will disappear as swiftly as the splatter of an arc of blood across the tatami floor.

*******

|Terazuma|

"You should go to bed, Kannuki. It's getting late," Terazuma yawns, sprawled on one side of the couch, Wakaba sitting down beside him. Of course, they're not touching.

"Me? You're the one who's yawning, Hajime-chan," Wakaba says indignantly. "Besides, I want to make sure that Tatsumi brings Kazutaka-san back in one piece."

"They'll be at it all night." Terazuma straightens to give Wakaba more room, and stretches lazily in another direction, this time putting his sock-clad feet up on the wooden coffee table. "Bet you breakfast that they won't get back before three."

"Does that mean I'll make breakfast and you'll eat it, or does that mean you'll make breakfast and I'll feed it to the stray cats?"

"Kannuki!" Terazuma tosses a small pillow at her playfully. "That's just who pays, not who cooks. Remember, we're going back out tomorrow."

"I'm just teasing," Wakaba giggles, as she hits him back with the pillow he tossed at her. Terazuma blocks the blow with a raised arm. "But I think Hajime-chan cares very much about his charge," Wakaba adds.

"That loser? I don't think so," Terazuma says indignantly. "It's just part of my job, and I'm going to do it right."

"But you're the one staying up to make sure he gets home safely."

"What?! I didn't say that!"

"Yes, you did! You did, you did, you did!" Wakaba punctuates her point with swinging whacks from the pillow.

"No, I didn't!" Terazuma half-heartedly dodges the soft blows, the friendliest beating he's received in a long time. Of course, he'll lose this battle, like he loses all other battles with Wakaba.

"Okay. But you thought it!" Wakaba says, sticking her tongue out adorably at him at nearly point-blank range, shoving the pillow up against his nose, a padded barrier between the two. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be in here sitting on the couch."

"Mmm reef mere!" The words come out half-muffled, before he pushes the pillow out of the way, and Wakaba scoots back on the couch. "I sleep here!" Terazuma says clearly, now that he isn't drowning in fabric and filling.

"You could make him sleep here instead of letting him use your room and your bed. You're just a nice guy and you know it."

"Am not!" Terazuma huffs, scowling

"Are too!" Wakaba's hand comes up, her finger pointing out at him, wagging her finger at him as she speaks. "You are a very nice person and I am proud that you're kind to people who you don't even think deserve it. It says a lot about what kind of a man you are, and you shouldn't ever forget that or try to pretend otherwise." And with that, Wakaba punctuates her point by poking Terazuma on the nose, momentarily forgetting his condition.

Terazuma nearly falls over from the shock, the electric touch of skin touching skin, her finger soft against the tip of his nose. Scuttling back, he readies himself for the inevitable change, the sudden fierce tearing and fiery rage of an uncontrolled transformation.

Nothing happens.

"Oro?" Wakaba looks at her finger. And then looks at Terazuma's nose. The two are frozen in their respective places on the couch, Wakaba with her finger still out as if to poke him, Terazuma looking as if he's about to try to climb over the couch.

"That…I didn't change?" Terazuma blinks, patting his chest and arms as if he can't tell for certain what just happened.

"I…did I find a safe spot on you to touch?" Wakaba blinks. "Here, let me try it again." Wakaba reaches out with her index finger, carefully, as Terazuma leans forward, both of them afraid to try this experiment again for the sake of their living room furnishings, but curious enough to risk some broken glass.

Gently, Wakaba's finger touches his nose. Again, that vibrant twinge of sensation, of another person's skin against his, and Terazuma is filled with a surprise that borders on shock, but it's mixed with something else.

Terazuma blinks, staring cross-eyed at that slender finger, a feathery light touch that seems almost afraid to press the issue further, to explore more than just that tiny patch of skin at the tip of his nose.

"Maybe if I…" Wakaba moves her finger, readying herself to explore the around that patch of skin, to see if there was more that was safe to touch.

And then, with the clattering alarm that only unexpected phone calls manage to make, they both jump like two startled cats with their fur in disarray. Terazuma's heart pounds wildly (but it's not just from the phone) as Wakaba picks up the receiver.

"Hello?"

Terazuma frowns to himself, wondering what the hell just happened. Inside though, he's smiling.

*******

|Hisoka|

At about this point, we give up all pretenses and…I kiss him.

Okay, so 'that point' is when we step inside the door. I've barely closed it when I can feel the touch of his breath against my cheek. Tsuzuki moves so quietly when he wants to that I didn't even notice him until I was nearly in his arms.

But I kiss him first, this time. Of course, he kisses back.

If you want me to exactly explain what happens next, I'm not exactly sure myself. That's the weird thing about being so open to Tsuzuki - I feel him, and I feel me, and…it's very mixed up and complicated.

In a rush and tangle of limbs, we end up with my…no, his back to the wall, pressing against each other as if we could somehow meld our bodies together.

Which in some ways, it was for me. Complex bits of memory, feeling, thought; little pieces like scattered petals coalescing into a flower of unusual loveliness, and I am falling, falling into him, even as our lips touch and our mouths find each other.

"Tsuzuki." It's a breathless exhortation, and I don't exactly know what I needed, why I had to say it, but it's there - a sound that ties me closer to him as the lamp we bump into casts weird dancing shadows along the wall.

"Mmm." He is too busy to talk, of course, his hands sliding beneath my shirt or was it my hands sliding beneath his shirt or my shirt or…

Sudden noise. I almost fall over from our shared surprise. The telephone? At this hour?

"Don't answer it." I grab his tie and drag him down for another kiss, nearly strangling him in the process. Tsuzuki manages to untangle himself from me as the phone rings again.

"If they're calling this late, it's got to be something important," Tsuzuki reasons. I scowl, with all the muster my adolescent self can bring forth, irritated at the interruption. Tsuzuki winks at me. "Don't make that face. There's always time."

"Right." Trust him to be the responsible one at times when I'd rather be irresponsible.

"Moshi moshi?" Tsuzuki answers the phone. "Eh? Er…Hisoka? He's busy." A pause. "No, he's fully clothed! I just got to the phone before…what? Ah, all right. Mmm. We'll be right there." Almost forgetting to hang up the phone, Tsuzuki grabs his coat, which we somehow managed to get off somewhere between the entry and the living room.

"What's going on?" I ask as I hang up the phone properly and start straightening my disarrayed clothing. The lamp's knocked askew, so I straighten the shade, and right the wronged shadows.

"We're going to Kyoto," Tsuzuki says while he straightens his tie. "The Gushoushin have been tracking Saki all night. They couldn't find him, so on a hunch, they looked up the next best person, which was Muraki's secretary. There's been no trace of anything in the last couple weeks from him - none of the usual paper trail of bank activity or anything else like that. But just now, in the last couple hours, there have been three attempts to access some of Muraki's old accounts, as well as someone accessing one of Muraki's permanent rail passes to reserve a seat on the express to Kyoto."

"What does that mean?"

"According to Muraki, it means that it's an emergency. He and Tatsumi already left to see if they can catch Sakaki at the train station, and Tatsumi had Watari call us and division four to make sure we got the call to go to Kyoto and back them up. Terazuma and Wakaba going to meet them at the train station. You and I are going to Kokakurou."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I say, catching his hand, all thoughts of the previous few moments of intimacy pushed off to the side. "Let's go."

******

|Oriya|

Out of the corner of his eye, just as he is about to unfurl the heavy quilt, Oriya sees a movement that is not Sakaki, and in a quick, almost gliding motion, drops the quilt and sweeps his sword off the ground before him. "Sakaki!"

"Shidou-san!" Sakaki nearly trips over himself trying to get out of the way as Saki enters through the door he had just come in from, through the illuminated garden path that still shines its light out, a beacon in the dark.

"Sakaki?" The voice, it's twisted, not the same, something wrong, something right…it's indescribably beautiful and ugly, both together, fused into an indescribable rasp that is undeniably inhuman. Saki's unearthly eyes turn toward Sakaki blindly. "Sakaki. You tried to kill me."

"No! I never did!"

"You shot me in the back because you thought I wanted to hurt him. The wound goes all the way through. I almost died."

"That's impossible!" Sakaki scuttles back against the floor, his sock-clad feet slipping on the smooth rush. "I was just a child when that happened!"

"You lie," the rasp continues. "I know it was you. I saw you when I turned my head. You were the one who told Kazutaka you would take care of me." Saki strides forward, implacable, his tortured eyes intent on Sakaki.

"That's not me." Sakaki's voice is choked with emotion, laced with horror. He's got his back to a wooden chest, frozen with fear. "That was my father."

A sudden flash of metal between them as Saki lunges forward, and an arc of blood splatters against the tatami floor. Droplets of crimson fleck the pristine purity of the paper-paneled doors, and the blood begins to soak in ever so slowly, marring the blankness.

"Stay back." Oriya's voice is soft, but deadly, determination cooling his emotions and focusing his thoughts as razor-sharp as the blood-slicked sword in his hands.

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

Sensing a disturbance, Saki turns, distracted. Tsuzuki and Hisoka appear in the garden, the flickering glow of the lamp casting their faces clearly in the light. It's a moment of hesitation on Oriya's part, but before he can strike, Saki's already moved, faster than anyone could have imagined.

"Kazutaka!" The word's tainted with pain, pulled out of Saki with all the poignancy of a broken heart. He almost sounds human. Tsuzuki sees Hisoka flinch from the recoil of emotions. Tsuzuki wonders if Muraki's arrived with Tatsumi, but he suddenly realizes that Saki's call is directed at Hisoka.

It only takes a second of hesitation. The Shinigami stand dumbfounded as Saki moves forth like the cresting wave of water, his form quavering as though for a moment, he might just disappear.

And he does, a breath later. But not by himself.

Where there were two Shinigami, there is now one.

Tsuzuki stares dumbfounded as a whisper of feathers, the hint of darkness, a trail of light and a touch of shadow whisk away in the wind, leaving him standing alone on the stone path that leads inside. The light gutters with the chill breeze, the lamp blowing out, leaving Tsuzuki drenched in night as somewhere inside, Oriya, bloodstained sword in hand, kneels to relight the flame.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki turns his head, wondering where his partner could have gone. Of course, he couldn't have wandered off by himself, could he?

Realization sets in quickly after that.

By the time the others arrive, it's too late.

To be continued….

*******

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko.

Thanks: Thanks to my prereaders Cyrus and Danceswithelvis, and my proofreader, Aeanagwen (who, by the way, does double duty because she also prereads). These people have helped me through every stage of this endeavor. Thank you also, the readers, for having patience with me and following me along this far. This is my first serious 'work in progress' and I am amazed I've gotten so far in the story. Special thanks to RubyD, who is on hiatus from prereading. The omake's for you, D. : )

Author's notes: The little opening bit is a repeat of some notes I wrote at one point on fic ideas for Yami. The tempura shrimp scene is inspired by a sketch on page 54 of the Yami sketchbook. Pages 64-65 also have images of a dark-haired prototype Muraki harassing/molesting Hisoka, which was part of the inspiration for this chapter. With any luck, I'll be able to finish it in another two chapters. I'm going to see if I can finish by the end of the year. *crosses fingers*

In the omake, Kokakuran is a place that was created by RubyD in an hourfic challenge posted on her livejournal - it's making a cameo here. Tokyo branch Kokakuran (inspired by RubyD's naming) can be found in a humorous X/1999 fic by Geoduck titled "Dream a little dream of me."

Omake! What if Saki and Muraki got along?

Brotherly Love

It's a reunion twenty years overdue, somewhere between a few actual murders, an attempted murder, one mechanical eye, a one-way flight out of the country, vampires, semi-zombies, a blonde porcelain doll named Veronica, and a man with purple eyes that just won't seem to hold still.

The results, of course, are spectacular.

"Saki?"

"Kazutaka?"

And not exactly what you might have expected.

***

Somewhere in Kyoto, there's a place you may have been to before, if you're assiduous in keeping up with the local gossip. In fact, one may say that it's a hub of goings-on. Its Tokyo branch is a plush and elegant affair, lovely enough to tempt young men into taking their princesses out to dinner. The Kyoto branch, however, functions more as a bar and less as a restaurant, having been strongly outshone by its neighbor with the similar name.

Welcome to Kokakuran. Please do not confuse it with its eastern neighbor.

This place is, in fact, a dive. However, due to some particularly curious geographic sentiments, it's also a safe haven.

"Sensei!" The voice is poignant with regret. "Why did you have to…have to do that?"

"That?" The bartender looks up. For purposes of identification, he will henceforth be referred to as 'Jimmy.' That may or may not be his real name.

"That! Oh, and another shot, please, sir." The young man slumps against the surprisingly clean surface of the wooden bar and raises his glass for a refill. "I'll need it, to erase what I just saw."

"What did you see?" Jimmy asks while he pours the young man a double. He thinks that the young man is as pale as if he's seen a ghost.

"Oh, my former employer and his current brother…One should be dead and the other shouldn't be, but now they're both supposed to be dead…and…oh, I don't understand it anymore!" The young man takes a long drink, and then chokes on the fiery spirit.

"Easy there. Ghosts are nothing to be afraid of," Jimmy says. "Why, just the other day I saw a programme about it on the telly." For purposes of identification, Jimmy is also not a Brit, nor should he be spelling like one. "Were they flitting about? Chasing you around with promises of vengeance?"

"No, it was worse. Much worse!" The young man is disconsolate, staring at the melting ice of his drink. The ice clinks uncaringly. "They were…both of them…were doing something to the young master. Something perverse…with ropes and nudity and pulleys."

"What happened?"

The young man buries his face in his arms, as if he could use that as a means of disappearing. The answer's so muffled that the bartender isn't certain that he hears it correctly. "…I thought it was…really hot…"

***

Meanwhile…

In the afterlife called Meifu, there is an agency that evaluates the sins and good deeds of people when they were once alive.

Currently, this agency is having a crisis. Mainly because its staff appears to have completely disappeared.

"Excuse me? Aren't we supposed to be working today?" Chief Konoe walks around the offices, room by room. "Hello? It's Monday…"

But it's empty. Even the library.

***

Tousled dark brown hair.

Currently bloodshot blue eyes.

He's walking funny?

Two chickens, an empath, and a shadow user walk into a bar.

Into Kokakuran (not to be confused with its illustrious neighbor), to be precise, where Sakaki sits at its lonesome bar drinking. This particular young man has recently suffered the loss of his livelihood as well as the gain of secondhand carnal knowledge.

In contrast, the new guests of this dubious bar have brought with them further knowledge - firsthand, if you will, of the doings and done-ings that have been taking place in all corners of the world.

It appears that somewhere between Muraki's predilection for domination through bondage, and Saki's inexhaustible understanding of human biochemistry, nothing, nowhere, and no one between Heaven and Hell (quite literally) is safe.

Well, no one, except in this odd little corner of the universe, where, somewhere between lay lines and kekkais and well-placed Starbucks, all are safe from the ravages of pesky humans and Shinigami alike.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun, for finding this safe place," Tatsumi pants, as he stumbles through the doorway, Hisoka leaning heavily into him. "Had it not been for your interest in obscure texts, more could have been…"

"It's okay, Tatsumi-san. You don't have to say it. I understand. Remember, I was there when it happened," Hisoka says, wincing, as he hobbles his way over to the bar. The humanoid chickens are silent, stunned into some sort of shell-shocked state as they hover and float along shakily after Hisoka.

Sakaki turns his head to the newcomers. If he appears to recognize these newcomers, please pretend that it makes sense.

"Oh, it's you!" Sakaki looks puzzled. "But I thought you two were…"

"Back home, safe and sound? Not since *those two* decided to kiss and make up," Tatsumi says, easing what appears to be a tender backside onto a barstool. Eventually, he gives up trying to sit, and instead leans against the sturdy wood of the bar.

"He isn't joking when he says, 'kiss' either," Hisoka adds. "They're total sluts. Even with each other."

"Sensei? A slut?" Sakaki doesn't seem to look fazed. "Somehow I can see that. When I think about it, there were always signs. Like that giant party-sized jug of lube."

For a moment, no one else knows what to say.

"It's horrible!" The elder Gushoushin collapses onto the countertop, tail feathers awry. "I think they're trying to take over the world!"

"No one's safe no one's safe no one's safe no one's safe…" The younger trails off, rocking himself back and forth, broken pinfeathers scattering when he shivers.

"Even Tsuzuki can't fight them," Hisoka adds sadly. "When he calls his shikigami, they molest them too."

"All twelve," Tatsumi says, bewildered. "Don't even ask me how they did it - it took the better part of a day. Even Tenkuu, the building, wasn't safe."

"All twelve…" Sakaki shakes his head. "Where is Tsuzuki-san now?"

"Don't ask," came the response, this time simultaneous from both Hisoka and Tatsumi.

"That…that's awful," Sakaki says.

"Tell me about it," Tatsumi says. "We're just lucky that they grew bored and left for Chijou for a while. I wonder where they could be."

Sakaki gets a sudden twinge of guilt, remembering why he was in Kokakuran instead of Kokakurou. "They're at Kokakurou. Oh, I'm such a coward! I ran when I saw what they were doing to Oriya-san." Sakaki stares mournfully at his feet.

"It's okay," Hisoka says to Sakaki. "Just be glad you came out safe. Oriya will be fine."

There's a fairly long silence in which our forgotten bartender Jimmy lays out fresh glasses. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but can someone vouch for this kid?" Jimmy says, gesturing at Hisoka. "It's against the law to serve alcohol to minors."

"I can vouch for everyone," Tatsumi says. "Please pour us all a round of whiskey." Hisoka gives Jimmy an odd look as he pours small glasses for the Gushoushin.

"What? It's not against the law to serve chickens booze."

Glasses of whiskey on ice are passed out and drunk, with the expected choking and coughing that follows.

"Now that I think about it, Tatsumi-san," Hisoka says, after a healthy bout of sputtering at the strong liquor, "where are the others?"

"Others? My guess is that they're either hiding or have escaped."

"Where could they go that would be safe?" Hisoka asks.

Tatsumi shakes his head. "I genuinely don't know anymore, Kurosaki-kun. Hokkaido perhaps?"

At that moment, the door to Kokakuran flings open, and two dreaded figures darken its doorstep. One tall and dark, the other tall and pale, both ready to administer their brand of justice upon the world.

"Prepare for trouble…"

"…And make it double."

Instantly, there's a scramble in which various barstools are toppled, glasses flung, and chickens clutched.

"You didn't think that you could hide from us here, did you, Sakaki-san?" Saki says with a wry smile.

"Really, Saki, you know that he didn't mean to run away," Muraki says soothingly. "Don't you want to assist me, Sakaki-kun? I know you're just a little nervous."

Sakaki looks torn. He stands frozen with fear, like a rabbit caught between two panthers. "I…no, Sensei, I want to help, it's just that…"

Of course, it gets more complex.

"Hold it, right there!" A girl's voice interrupts. She's joined by another of similar height, both of them petite and delicate creatures. Their silhouettes hold in the doorway for a moment before stepping through.

"Yuma! Saya!" Tatsumi's eyes grow wide. "What are you two doing here?"

"We heard about your problems, and we're here to help out!" Yuma says defiantly as she barges up to Muraki and Saki, who are looking completely stunned.

"Wakaba and Terazuma came to us at the first sign of trouble," Saya explains while she follows in Yuma's wake, moving off to one side as if to corral the brothers and keep them from escaping.

"You two?" Muraki raises a skeptical eyebrow. "I can hardly think that the two of you are up to stopping the two of us."

"Not unless, of course, you would like to spend some time together in private," Saki says charmingly.

"Not a chance, villains! Take that! Ten Thousand Ribbons of the Pink House Attack!"

***

And so, once more, the day is saved from the ravages of Team Brotherly Love, thanks to Yuma and Saya, with a little help from a deadly combination of genki, kawaii, and crossdressing.

End! Thank you for reading! Chapter 9 to come soon… Extras may be found on http://eag.squidkitty.org/

Eyecatch, from the proofreader's comments:

<< Curiosity takes me to a bad place, and I decide to see if I can figure out why he's like that, so hesitantly, I extend my senses further, just a bit. <<

Aeanagwen: *snickers* Show us on the doll where he touched you, Hisoka-kun.